It's time to quack a smile for giant duck billed to bring people together

Size matters … an artist's impression of what Florentijn Hofman's rubber duck will look like in Darling Harbour.
Photo: Supplied

AS THE Netherlands' giant Rubber Duck floats into Darling Harbour next Saturday afternoon, heralding not duck season but a new Sydney Festival season, onlookers might not suspect it is a Kiwi decoy.

Dutch artist Florentijn Hofman, 35, says Rubber Duck - made from PVC and billed by the festival as ''five storeys high and five storeys wide'' and ''popping up in various cities around the world'' - is actually the latest of several versions of the duck.

This one has been made in Auckland, shipped to Sydney and added to a custom-made pontoon built here.

Yet each duck has ''healing properties'', says Hofman, and he's not being entirely whimsical with his claim.

''I saw people crying at the end of a [duck] placing in Belgium,'' Hofman tells Fairfax Media from Perth, where he has been holidaying in a campervan with his partner and three children before his Sydney visit.

''People get so connected; it loosens up emotions.''

One woman was so entranced taking pictures of the duck in Saint-Nazaire in western France that she forgot to apply the handbrake on her car. The fire brigade had to tow the car after it slipped into the harbour.

A duck has appeared in 12 cities, including Osaka, Auckland, Hasselt and Sao Paulo. The biggest - 26 metres x 20 metres x 32 metres - was in Saint-Nazaire because an engineer mistook the instructions.

''I was stunned and scared to death of the size,'' Hofman admits. ''The crew was also slightly afraid; it was so immense. It made us small and meaningless. I like the fact a work can do this.''

Hofman hopes Australia will now see more of his giant art: there's been a 13-metre yellow rabbit made of concrete, metal, wood and shingles, left lying upside down against a statue in Orebro, Sweden.

Even his large, dead fly looked fetching affixed to a building top in Queretaro, Mexico.

''My sculptures cause an uproar, astonishment and put a smile on your face,'' says Hofman. ''Passers-by stop in front of them, get off their bicycle and enter into conversations with other spectators. That is the effect of my sculptures in the public domain: people are making contact with each other again.''

Then there was Max, a big red dog made of potato crates, pallets, wood, straw, rope, metal wire and shrinking foil and placed in a field in Leens in the Dutch province of Groningen; and Slow Slugs, two creatures made of metal, football nets and 40,000 plastic bags for Angers, France.

Yet Hofman insists his work hasn't become bigger: more that the world has become smaller.

''The internet is fascinating, but also stupid in a way,'' he says. ''You only see two-dimensional images and you think you've seen it and know it.

''As a sculptor and monumentalist I always say you have to see and feel it in reality; it's better for you as a human.

''Therefore I love it when people travel to see one of my works, and I always make time to meet and talk with them.''

Hofman will speak at Sydney's Powerhouse Museum at 2.30pm on Sunday, January 6.